


A Simple Life

by days4daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Crazy Castiel, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Power Dynamics, Season/Series 07, True Form Sex, True Forms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain discovers him in the yard. He sits just past the front steps, shirt and pants a dirty white. A beige trench coat fans across the grass. Blood stains his face and hands, blood that does not belong to him.</p><p>--<br/>Takes place during Season 7</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Life

Cain discovers him in the yard. He sits just past the front steps, shirt and pants a dirty white. A beige trench coat fans across the grass. Blood stains his face and hands, blood that does not belong to him.

Cain sits on a porch chair, one of two separated by a tea table. It is a warm autumn day, sun blazing on scattered leaves. The perfect time for a fallen angel, he supposes. 

Castiel's attention is on the hives. They buzz with excitement, workers milling to and fro. The latest batch of honey is ready for collection. This was to be Cain's task for the day, before this unannounced arrival. Castiel has a way of disrupting things.

"They lead a simple life," Castiel says. "Serve their purpose and die. An admirable mission."

"Quite like angels, aren't they?" Cain muses.

"Yes," Castiel agrees. "The ones who do not stray."

Something is off about the beast. Always the conundrum, Castiel. Never quite able to fall in line with his kin. Cain knew of this one long before he set aside the Blade and banished himself to a life of seclusion.

But, something is more off than usual. A web of ice shrouds his grace, something cold and familiar.

Blood trickles between Castiel's fingers. The old hunger claws from Cain's arm. 

Castiel observes him, head tilted. Cain nods to the water spout at the side of the house. "Clean yourself."

Castiel leaves his coat on the lawn as he scrubs the blood from his arms. Droplets trickle down his skin, tinged with pink.

He closes off the water and stands at the base of the steps. Silent, he waits for Cain's inspection.

"Come," Cain says.

Castiel does not take the second chair. Instead, he sits at Cain's feet. Water puddles around him, like a child fresh out of a pool. He does not acknowledge the mess.

"Was that angel blood, Castiel?" Cain asks. 

"Yes. Garrison blood."

"Did you kill them?"

"No." Castiel glances upward, expression grim. "I do not engage in violence anymore."

Cain chuckles. Absurd for any angel to deny bloodshed. Especially this one. "You'll let these murders stand?"

"You put down your blade when your love died."

"Careful, Castiel," Cain mutters. He does not need to expand on the threat. Castiel nods, accepting the terms. 

"Will you collect the honey with me later?" Cain asks. The angel nods again. "And tell me why you've disturbed me?"

"I've come to watch the bees," Castiel says.

Cain shakes his head. "You've come for judgment."

Castiel meets Cain's accusing stare. His expression betrays nothing - no guilt, hope, or anger. He _is_ nothing, cold as the ice threaded around his grace. "I've seen the plan," he offers. "It's in the honey combs. The trees. There's nothing to add."

"Yes," Cain grumbles. "To alter perfection is to become Lucifer." A flash of pain crosses Castiel's face. "Is that what you are now?"

"I don't want to fight," Castiel protests.

Cain smiles. "Why fight? You've already won the war, I hear. A massacre on high so majestic, it's spoken of in whispers among the demons. The great Castiel. The angel who swallowed the beasts of Purgatory and betrayed Heaven and Hell in the name of power."

Castiel looks at him, glassy-eyed.

Cain's huff becomes a raised brow when the angel produces his blade. Castiel offers it to him, flat in two outstretched palms. "Still the selfish one, aren't you, Castiel?"

"I don't want to fight," Castiel repeats.

Cain chuckles. "Should I take your life, Castiel? After yours, how many others? Should I get the taste back? Destroy creation in your name?"

Castiel tilts his head. It's unclear whether the gravity of the words reaches him. But he does stow his knife, tucking it back into his unnatural attire. Castiel sets his damp head against Cain's knee. "I'll find my caretaker," he murmurs. "She will know what to do."

Gibberish to Cain. He gives Castiel's hair a scrub. "Maybe." Cain stands. "Help me with the honey."

Without comment, Castiel follows him to the yard.

***

They do not speak as they collect the honey. They still do not speak as they jar and pack it for sale at next week's farmer's market. Castiel keeps a small bag for himself. Cain does not ask why.

Day turns to night, the sky bruising to bluish-purple. Cain turns from the window, to the angel in his living room. "You have a caretaker to see," he says.

"Do you have any other tasks for me?"

Cain sighs. "Am I your keeper, Castiel?"

Castiel swallows, but he does not break eye contact. 

Cain traces his face with a hand. His vessel has a strong jaw, outlined by Cain to the flat of his chin. Castiel lifts his head. It's a shadow of the proud warrior he was, before power drove him mad. Before...this. Whatever he is now.

"See the caretaker," Cain says. "But see your Winchesters too. They may be able to solve your Leviathan problem."

"I don't want to fight." Castiel snaps.

Cain grips his chin, thumb biting into his jaw. "What do you want, Castiel?"

Something hot and new flashes in Castiel's eyes. His wings bristle under his skin. "I want to serve," he says.

Cain raises a brow. "Do you?" 

Castiel nods. "I admire your bees. Their diligence."

Cain stares past Castiel's human eyes to the stain beneath. A curse, like the old scar on Cain's arm. Not so different, are they? Both marked by the hand of Lucifer.

"Serve tonight," Cain says. "Tomorrow, you fly."

Castiel nods again. Dangerous power to give the Father of Murder. The angel opens his mouth when Cain touches his lips. "Go on," Cain says, before kissing him.

Castiel sighs at the scratch of Cain's beard. His hands ride up Cain's sides and around to his back. Castiel's back hits the counter. He threads a hand through Cain's hair, the other raking down his neck. 

"The clothes you wear are strange," Cain hums.

Castiel stutters from him, mouth pink and wet. "They say I'm not well," he replies.

Cain chuckles. An understatement, it seems. "Undress," he says. "The human way."

At his bidding, Castiel pulls the white shirt over his head. He drops his elastic pants, shoes already shed on the porch. His socks, he strips one by one. The soiled, once-white clothes pile on Cain's kitchen floor.

A pleasing vessel, strong and worthy. Castiel sucks on his bottom lip, swollen from Cain's attention. 

Cain removes his own shirt - a beige, buttoned thing. His slacks are brown, working pants that he unzips by the copper front. 

As he lowers them, Castiel drops to his knees. Cain does not have to ask for him to peel away the socks. Brown and wool, one by one. Castiel folds them together, a detail that makes Cain sigh. He pushes his pants and underwear to the floor. These, too, Castiel gathers. He treats the garments with more respect than his own. Each, he folds and places on the counter.

"What is this curse inside you, Castiel?"

"I see everything."

Castiel sees everything, it seems, and nothing. A scale of life and death too grand for human eyes to comprehend. His blue gaze glosses over Cain's face. Castiel sees him, yes, but he is engrossed by other ghosts lurking in the shadows.

Cain takes a mason jar of honey from the counter. He dips his finger in and extends it to Castiel.

Castiel opens his mouth, a slight smile as Cain paints his tongue with honey. The angel's pleasure is soft but honest. He closes his lips around Cain's finger and sucks away the sweetness.

"Go to my bed, Castiel," Cain says.

Castiel holds Cain's stare as he moves, tracing the way without looking. He pauses in the doorway, waiting for Cain to follow. 

Cain considers not giving this to Castiel. Birds like this one are better to see, not touch. But Cain has always hungered for broken things. He follows Castiel to the bedroom. Castiel kneels on the edge of the mattress, seated upright and waiting. 

Cain slides arms around his waist. At this position, as he kisses Castiel he can knead hands down his spine. He spreads Castiel's ass and strokes between it. One finger is still wet from Castiel's mouth; this one, Cain glides over his hole. Tight and nice. Cain coaxes it in. Castiel's vessel opens just enough to allow the tip of his finger.

Castiel sighs his pleasure. He stands straighter on his knees, spreading his thighs. His hands settle on Cain's shoulders, leaning into his kiss.

"I want to taste you. The real you," Cain murmurs.

Castiel rubs his face into Cain's beard. "You don't need my permission," he says.

True. But, "I want your permission." It will be sweeter this way - to break an already-broken angel.

"Yes," Castiel says. He knows the power of this word more than most. 

"On your back," Cain tells him. Castiel complies without hesitance, sliding up the bed. His vessel makes a pretty picture sprawled across Cain's pillows. The start of arousal thickens his cock.

Cain climbs over him and cups his neck in a hand. He coaxes Castiel's head upward. 

Castiel closes his eyes, and his lips part open. Entry, given freely. 

Cain covers his mouth and lets himself slide. He has not allowed himself to move like this in many years. Dislodged from the vessel, the dark mass of his true nature whispering between the lips of his taken.

Castiel is cold inside. Heaven's guardians are known for their chill, but this frost is too familiar to Cain. A scorching cold, binding the grace that blares bright inside him. 

His grace is powerful, but it is not strong enough to dispel Cain. Still, his true form is beautiful in its shackles. A blaze of blue between cold tendrils of red. 

Black smoke floods into Castiel's essence. It cuts and weaves. Painful even to the Father of Murder. But a pleasant pain. A desirable slice of chill through the rabid warmth of the demon. 

Castiel expands around him, glowing under the caress of the damned. His wings, majestic, twitch their excitement. Dark and light meet; enveloping, swallowing. Expanding, blue and black from open eyes and lips. The vessel bridges against Cain's abandoned body. Castiel moans. The body, erect. The mind, blank. 

Cain sees him in fields of butterflies and bees, strolling under sunlight. He stands on a mountain over a valley of blood. Bodies of angels - hundreds, thousands - steam ash in the mid-afternoon sun. Castiel plucks flower petals and observes his own carnage. 

His head dips back at the sudden surge of blackness around his legs. It embraces his thighs and swallows his erection, his hips. Laps at his belly, his nipples, his chest. Winds around his throat. Castiel tries to cry out. A soundless gape, eyes squeezed shut as the demon envelops his wings. Cain's touch dances down every feather, one by one, stroked with fingers of smoke. Cain caresses the bone, down to the breach of Castiel's back. Castiel's head lolls back, bliss written on his face. 

No bodies here, no blood. Just the pleasure of mindless sin. This is what Cain can offer. He claws through Castiel's essence, bites him, makes the angel writhe and whimper.

The vessel bucks on the bed, moaning louder. Cain swims back, urging Castiel relaxed and wide. Their bodies join as their spirits separate. 

Cain's eyes open just as the vessel whimpers, jerking forward with his orgasm. White strands sully his stomach, fingers digging into Cain's hips. Holding him deep inside. 

Castiel's eyes lose focus when Cain's mouth latches to his neck. Hard drags of his lips, reddened by teeth scrapes. "Don't heal this," Cain murmurs. 

Castiel doesn't speak. He just nods and gasps. This is enough for Cain.

Cain mouths his way up Castiel's extended neck. The skin is soft beneath his jaw. Cain's teeth hook here, pink imprints left in gentle stubble. 

Castiel groans and shifts against him. Cain is still hard inside. Already buried deep, he rocks himself closer. Castiel has to spread wider. His cock is half-hard again, urged on by the drum of pressure against his prostate. Fragile things, these bodies. Even when worn by angel and demon.

Cain spits into a hand and drags it up Castiel's cock. Castiel groans again, muffled by Cain's mouth. His lips are sore, swollen from kisses and rasps of Cain's beard. 

Cain thrusts into him, drawing a hiss. He stays deep, grinding his hips down. Castiel's waist bucks forward, as if startled by his own sensitivity. 

"Are you mine, bird?" Cain murmurs.

"Yes." No hesitation.

Cain thrusts up harder, his fist urged up Castiel's shaft. Castiel arches beneath him, shaking, strained. His restored erection leaks precum. Already so tired from his first orgasm. Bleeding, beautiful, from the the inner stroke of demon claws and fangs. 

Cain lets his cock go in favor of pinning his hips. Two hands force Castiel down he buries himself deep. Castiel bridges and cries out. What insanity, the great Castiel bowing before the first of Lucifer's Knights!

Castiel comes again, stunned stiff beneath Cain. His balls squeeze tight, stomach clenched and messed by fresh streaks of white. A tight sound whistles between clenched teeth. His overwhelmed eyes drift upward.

But Cain demands attention, and he isn't done. He stretches up, fingertips grazing Castiel's face. Castiel twitches just from this. A low sound hitches in his throat as Cain's touch moves to his chest. To his stomach, trembling with tension. To his raw, over-spent shaft. His sensitive sac. To the edge of the hole still filled by Cain, over-fucked and wet.

Cain thrusts forward. Castiel cries out, pain and pleasure, twisting as Cain takes his mouth again. 

Castiel's waist jerks at a slow pump of his shaft. Cain's hand around him, stroking his softened cock. Castiel's hips roll, a weary, "nngh" behind locked teeth.

"Are you mine, bird?" Cain asks.

Castiel tries to respond, but Cain fists him again, breaking his words. He only manages a weak, "Ihhn..." 

Cain is careful as he withdraws himself from Castiel. But his hole is filled again with fingers. Cain thrusts them into the cum-slicked opening. Castiel is already too stretched to deny him.

Castiel's hips twitch helplessly. He whimpers, Cain cannot tell if the sound is approval or dissent.

Cain thrusts his fingers in again, wet and squishing inside. Castiel's waist jerks. Tears wet Castiel's eyes. A genuine reaction to the present - not the fields of blood created by the curse. He feels a flutter around his fingers, Castiel's attempt to tense around him. But he's been fucked too loose. Cain scissors inside him with ease, stroking his wet insides. Castiel moans. His waist snaps forward.

"Are you mine?" Castiel repeats.

"Yes!" Castiel forces. His fingers clench tight in the sheets.

Cain rewards him with a hard thrust of his hand. The tips of his fingers strike his prostate again, and again. Castiel bucks. His stomach clenches again, but he has nothing left to give. A dry climax that makes Castiel's eyes squeeze shut, a pair of tears down his cheeks.

Cain removes his hand. His movements are methodical as he lies next to Castiel. He watches Castiel shiver, watches him rip holes in the bed sheets.

"Come," he says, when he meets Castiel's eyes.

Castiel stutters, face tucked against Cain's jaw. Inside, his wings rasp, like the twitch of a worker bee. He surrenders to the moment. To Cain, not a curse.

Cain kisses his hair. He's done well, for now. 

*The End*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [Tumblr](http://daisy4days.tumblr.com) :)


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